


gasolina

by empress_ofbloodshed



Series: gasolina au [2]
Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:53:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27610958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empress_ofbloodshed/pseuds/empress_ofbloodshed
Summary: give me rowcan dancing to gasolina or give me death.
Relationships: Lorcan Salvaterre & Rowan Whitethorn
Series: gasolina au [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018696
Kudos: 3





	gasolina

Leaning with his back against the door with an unlit cigarette between his teeth, Lorcan spun his keyring on his index finger. Whitethorn was taking forever.

“It’s only the club, for fuck’s sake!” he called out to their quiet apartment.

Sure enough, Rowan stalked out from his room with a glare.

If Lorcan had been drinking anything, he would have choked. Little dark academia Rowan Whitethorn who studied classics and translated the Odyssey from the original ancient Greek in his free time wore sinfully tight lightwashed jeans and a thrifted pine green button down that made his eyes even greener. The top three buttons were undone and the hem was tucked into his jeans, exposing his bare skin and the dark tattoos that trailed down his chest and left arm. Around his neck was the thin silver chain he never took off with a hawk pendant from his mother.

Fuck, Whitethorn looked good tonight.

With a snarky bow, Lorcan opened the door and let Rowan pass through, locking it behind them. He made sure to let his roommate walk a little ahead so he could admire how nicely the jeans clung to his ass. At the end of the hall, Rowan stabbed the button for the elevator and pulled out his phone to check the group chat. Lorcan had felt his thigh buzzing a few minutes ago but ignored it.

“Fenrys says he has shots waiting for us,” Rowan said, tapping his booted toe on the maroon carpet while they waited for the elevator.

Lorcan ruffled his silver hair and narrowly avoided the swat from Whitethorn. He replied, “Calm down, pretty boy. We’ll be there soon enough.”

And they were. The bouncer was a teammate of Lorcan’s and let them through without fuss. Music blared and he could feel the beat pounding in his blood. The golden Moonbeam found them and dragged them up to the bar, handing both two shots and watching until they knocked them back.

“You ordered tequila?” Lorcan shouted over the bumping base, leaning close to Fenrys. The blonde nodded and grinned. Oh gods, he was going to be in Hel tomorrow morning. Tequila fucked him up harder than anything else. Thank Hellas it was a Saturday and he didn’t have class until Monday morning.

Fenrys flitted off to the dance floor, dragging his twin and joining the crowd of grinding, sweaty bodies. Gavriel handed Lorcan a bottle of water from behind the bar, a towel slung over his shoulder before he took a girl’s order and began to mix ingredients.

To Lorcan’s surprise, Whitethorn called Gavriel back over and ordered a Four Loko, sliding cash across the bar in exchange for the chilled can of alcohol. Praise Hellas that boy had a death wish. Tequila _and_ Four Loko? It would be a wonder if Lorcan didn’t find him puking halfway through the night and have to carry him home.

An hour later, Lorcan was dragged onto the dance floor by Fenrys. His blood hummed, a pleasant buzz muddling his thoughts. The opening notes of “Gasolina” played and a cheer went up through the crowd. Stumbling back into someone, Lorcan turned to see his silver-haired roommate with a drunken grin splashed across his face.

“C’mon, Salvaterre!” Rowan shouted in Lorcan’s ear, his words slurring. “ShakethatASS iss _Gasolina_!”

Fucking Hels, this boy was going to be the death of him. But he didn’t care.

Rowan’s hands settled on Lorcan’s waist, his hips already moving back and forth to the rhythm. The beat thumped in his bones, the need to dance, to move, too great for him to ignore. So Lorcan did. He tugged Rowan closer by that silver chain, their lips inches apart as the crowd filled in the little space between them that had vanished. They were chest to chest, Rowan’s hands guiding Lorcan’s hips until they swayed in tandem and the temperature rose. Sweat beaded on Whitethorn’s collarbone, dripping down the planes of his chest. Lorcan followed that droplet with his eyes, his blood singing being this close to his roommate.

Halfway through the song, Rowan turned and ground his ass against Lorcan’s hips. Lorcan gripped his waist hard, pulling Rowan back into him. Rowan’s ass shook in a way Lorcan didn’t know he knew how to do, the urge to slap it hard to push down. They danced until the end of the song, Lorcan behind Rowan.

Then “Gas Pedal” began to play and Lorcan knew they weren’t done. This was his shit. He spun Rowan around, his pine green eyes widening in the strobing lights when Lorcan turned to grind his ass against him.

> Slow down, grab the wall

> Wiggle like you trying to make yo ass fall off

> Hella thick I wanna smash ‘em all

> Now speed up, gas pedal, gas pedal

Rowan’s hands slipped underneath his leather jacket and pushed up the hem of his dark tee, settling themselves on the bare skin of Lorcan’s waist. His roommate’s hands were warm, setting fire to his skin. It didn’t help that Lorcan could feel Rowan’s cock hardening behind him. So he ground his ass harder until he just barely heard the bit back moan over the blasting music.

Lorcan stood and spun around, hands trailing up Rowan’s bare arms then over his shoulders and down his back until he squeezed the ass he had been admiring all night long, groaning at how perfect it felt in his hands. Rowan nipped at Lorcan’s jawline, rocking their hips together. A groan tore from Lorcan’s lips and he slapped Rowan’s ass.

They ground against each other for three more songs, until the alcohol swirling in Lorcan’s stomach suddenly made him sick. He rushed for the toilets, collapsing to his knees in an empty stall and hurling up his guts. Okay, so maybe drinking on an empty stomach wasn’t the best idea. Heaving again, he felt hands hold his hair back and smelled Rowan’s pine and snow scent infused with booze.

It should’ve been the other way around, with Rowan puking into the toilet and Lorcan rubbing soothing circles on his shoulders.

“Home?” Rowan asked too loudly as Lorcan splashed cold water on his face.

His head suddenly pounding, Lorcan nodded. They said their goodbyes to Fenrys and the other members of the Cadre, holding onto each other for balance as they stumbled back to their apartment complex. It was a twenty minute walk, but thankfully it wasn’t cold. Lorcan fumbled with the key, falling into the door as it swung open. Kicking off his boots in the entryway, he used Rowan’s shoulder as his balancing point.

They stumbled into the bathroom, the nightlight serving as their only source of light because they refused to turn the lights on. It was a tiny bathroom to begin with. With both of them in there, Lorcan was squashed between the wall and the sink while Rowan sat cross-legged on the toilet. Their phones vibrated with a text message but they ignored it. Or at least Lorcan did. Rowan hissed at the bright light of his screen.

“Iss from Fenrys,” he hiccuped, dropping his phone to drink from the glass of water on the bathroom counter. “Hesays ‘g’night bitchez.’”

Unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, Lorcan tried to walk his way out of them but only succeeded in tripping and falling. “Ow,” he whimpered, his knees smarting. Still on the floor, he shook his leather jacket off and almost ripped his shirt taking it off. Crawling to his bed on his hands and knees, he tugged off his socks before crawling into bed. He was too tired to hunt for the pants he normally slept in.

Stuffing his face into the pillow, Lorcan groaned.

Then came the shuffle of feet and he heard Rowan open his bedroom door. “Lorcan canIsleepwithyou it’s cold and the darkisscary,” Rowan mumbled.

Rolling over, Lorcan pulled back the blankets and patted the empty space next to him. Rowan curled up next to him in his blanket burrito clutching his stuffed animal. It was quiet until the bed creaked when Lorcan shifted to pull his roommate close. Closing his eyes, he fell asleep in moments with the help of the booze still coursing through his system and the comforting scent of pine and snow.


End file.
